


Shadow of Rome

by Rainah (RainahFiclets)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainahFiclets/pseuds/Rainah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after the events in Victory, Agron and Nasir still live with the memory of everything they have lost. It takes time, to heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow of Rome

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warns for mentions of cannon events (Agron's crucifixion, Nasir's past as a slave)

It was the little things, small moments, that reminded them of what they were. Things that reminded them they were not just Agron and Nasir, herders and occasional combat instructors east of the Rhine, but _Agron and Nasir_ , ex-slaves and soldiers who had fought and lost and suffered beneath a Roman lash. They never saw Rome again, but even in the depths of Agron’s homeland it was impossible to escape the shadow of their former lives.

It was present whenever Agron instructed his kinsmen on the proper way to hold a sword, and Nasir had to be the one to demonstrate. The years had not returned use of Agron’s hands; Though he could make a gentle fist, the ability to hold a sword would always be beyond his ability. Agron would look away, as the flow of his instruction continued uninterrupted, and Nasir struck the air again and again.

Later Nasir would kiss the scars that remained and murmur that the gods had favoured them to return Agron at all. And while all of the kisses and reason in the world won’t bring life back to Agron’s useless fingers, they remind him of what he has gained instead of lost.

It was present again when Agron bought his lover a necklace from a passing trader, one to match his own. Nasir had admired it, thanked him with a kiss, and immediately set the trinket aside. It was present in the way he wanted nothing but Agron’s hands to touch his neck, for nothing else could burn away the memory of the collar that had choked him for years. He said a prayer every morning when he awoke and found it still absent, and another that it was Agron’s hands that encircled him and not another’s.

It was present in the dreams that still plagued them both, dreams that stole breath with their clarity; The armies again assembled, the faces of those they had lost crying out in triumph. Agron dreams of his crucifixion sometimes. It is a mercy his screams are enough to wake them both. They lie together every night, each other’s shield against the darkness.

It is present too, sometimes, when things are not dark. When the fire burns low, and the world is quiet, they talk of what once was. Agron tells frequently him of Duro, and the mayhem they caused together. Nasir cannot remember his own brother, but he spends a night recalling Chadara’s brilliant smile and gentle hands. They reminisce of Spartacus, of Crixus, of Naevia and Mira and Gannicus. They wonder of Sibyl, gone seeking her gods, or of Laeta and her child. There are some times when memories are touched with laughter rather than grief.

In time, the memories begin to fade. Dreams of battle grow rare, replaced by daily concerns and nightmares of escaping goats, though they still spend the night entwined. Agron can look upon a sword without bitterness, without the phantom pain of spikes being driven into his palms. One day Nasir ties a ribbon around his neck and wears it all day long.

The memories of their fellow gladiators do not fade. In the frosty village air and the warmth of the fire, with cups of wine and whispered in a child’s ear Agron and Nasir tell the story of brave Spartacus, who took a ludus of squabbling gladiators and turned them into brothers, how he fought for freedom until Rome itself began to tremble. How part of his legacy will forever live on, in the memories of those he saved. And though they heal, they do not forget.


End file.
